


We’ll live. I promise..

by mx_tunes



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Al Marsh is His own Warning, Angst, Avery’s alive, Belch treats Bev like the lady she is!, Blood and Gore, Bowers Gang turns good, Bullying, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Eating Disorders, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fix-it fic, Fluff, Georgie Lives, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, M/M, Multi, Oscar "Butch" Bowers's A+ Parenting, Patrick and Richie share the same dumb ass brain cells, Patrick doesn't kill animals/babies, Pennywise (IT) is His Own Warning, Pennywise is a little rapey.., Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Scratch that REALLY rapey, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Smut, Some Cuteness, Summer Love, THE DENBROUGH’S ARE GOOD PARENTS!, You've been warned my dudes, everyone is b i s e x u a l, uwu
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2020-07-19 23:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19982371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mx_tunes/pseuds/mx_tunes
Summary: It’s Summer! There’s love in the air, birds are chirping, and the kids of Derry are dying. The Losers’ Club and The Bowers’ Gang join forces to stop an evil clown that’s after them and their brothers, Georgie Denbrough and Avery Hockstetter. Also, a bit of ‘romance’, if you can call it that, begins blooming between the eleven kids.[CURRENTLY ON HIATUS]





	1. The Old Lady

Our story begins with a boat made from a piece of sketchbook paper floating down a gutter swollen with rain. 

The boat bobbed, listed, righted itself again, dived barely through treacherous whirlpools, and continued on its way down Witcham Street toward the traffic light which marked the intersection of Witcham and Jackson. With the rain they've had for a few steady weeks, all the houses were dark on that afternoon in the Autumn of 1988.

A young boy who was wearing a raincoat and green galoshes ran cheerfully alongside the paper boat. The rain tapped on the yellow hood of the boy's coat, sounding like rain on a shed roof. The boy in the raincoat was George Denbrough, he was eight. His brother, William, or ‘Stuttering Bill’, was sick and in bed with influenza.

Bill sat on his bed, folding the paper precisely, as Georgie drew things in the condensation of the window.

"Sure we won't get in trouble, Bill?" Georgie turned to ask his brother.

"Don't be such a w- w- wuss," Bill said to Georgie. "I'd come with you if I weren't..." he coughed. "..dying."

Georgie sighed. "You're not dying!" He said as he took a step toward the older boy sitting on his bed. Bill looked up from his folding with a surprised, yet amused look on his face.

"You didn't see the v- v- v... vomit coming out of my nose this morning?" He said with a slight smile on his lips. Georgie furrowed his eyebrows.

"That's _disgusting_." He said walking over to the bed. Bill looked back down to the boat.

"Okay, go get the wax." He said. Georgie looked over to the door, timidly.

"In the cellar?" Georgie asked. Bill looked back to the small boy.

"You want it to fl- fl- float, don't you?" He told him. George sighed again, looking down.

"Fine." He grabbed his walkie-talkie and walked out the door as Bill wrote 'SS GEORGIE' on the side of the boat.

Down the stairs he went to the cellar door as he passed his mother playing _Für Elise_ on the piano. Hesitantly, he approached the door and grabbed the handle and opened the door which lead into the darkness. He stared down the stairs and his heart was racing.

"Georgie," he heard his brother say, abruptly, through the walkie-talkie. "Hurry up." His fingers found the light switch. They snapped it--

\--and nothing. No light. He descended down the cellar stairs into the darkness that smelled of dirt and wet and dim rotted vegetables.

"Okay," he said under his breath. "I'm brave." Reaching the last step, he looked around the dark room before heading toward a shelf. "Where's the wax?" He asked himself. He looked around on the shelf for a short moment. "There's the wax. Yes." He said to himself again. He grabbed the small box and looked around the room again.

He froze. There were two glowing eyes staring at him in the corner of the room. Two eyes that were attached to a creature much worse than anything you could possibly imagine. He reached for a flashlight which was on the shelf and quickly flipped it on. Not two deadly eyes. Just some snow globes.

Thunder screamed and he jumped.

"What was that?" He asked himself loudly. "What's that? Oh, jeez!" He cried as he ran back up the cellar stairs.

Back upstairs in the comfort of Bill's room, the two boys sat on a desk chair with Georgie's arms wrapped around his older brothers shoulders as he applied the melted paraffin wax on the boat with an old paintbrush.

He tapped the paintbrush off on the side of the bowl once before placing it in the bowl and handing the boat to Georgie.

"Alright, there you go. Sh- sh- she's all ready for you, Captain." He said, smiling slightly.

" 'She?' " Georgie asked.

"You always call b... b- b- boats 'she'." He told him.

" 'She,' "Georgie repeated. "Thanks, Billy," He said and hugged his brother. Bill hugged him back, then gave his ribs a small tickle and Georgie let go of him, giggling. The younger boy sighed. "See you later. Bye!" He said as he began skipping out of the room and running down the hallway.

He walked outside of his house and turned back to see his brother looking at him from the window. He waved.

"Be careful." Bill said to his brother through the walkie-talkie, and the young boy was off.

Now here he was, chasing his boat down the right side of Witcham Street. Up ahead were two Derry street stoppers in a row.

Duck under one.

_Crash_.

He hit his head on the second stopper and fell on his butt. He sat for a short moment and began running again. He was running fast but the water was running faster and his boat was pulling ahead. He heard a deepening roar and saw that only a few feet down the street was an open storm drain.

"No!" He cried. For a moment he thought he could catch the boat. But then he watched his boat swing around a few times, and disappear. He got to the storm drain and dropped to his knees and peered in. "Bill's gonna kill me," Georgie told himself aloud. The water made a dank hollow sound as it fell into darkness. It was a spooky sound. It reminded him of--

"Huh!" The sound was jerked out of him as if on a string, and he recoiled. There were two yellow eyes down there; the sort of eyes he had always imagined to see in the cellar. He was ready to run--would run in a second or two, when his mental switchboard had felt with the shock those two shiny yellow eyes had given him. That's when a voice--a perfectly innocent and rather reasonable voice spoke.

"Hiya, Georgie," it said. He could barely believe what he saw; there was a clown in the storm drain. The light was far from good, but it was good enough for Georgie to be sure of what he was seeing. It was a clown, like at the circus or on TV. The face of the clown in the storm drain was painted white and had funny tufts of orange-red hair on either side of his balding head with white paint covering his face, both eyebrows painted with a red line going straight down and stopped once they reached his lips. A small, button nose was dead center, painted red. "What a nice boat... do you want it back?" The funny looking clown asked.

"Um.. yes, please." Georgie replied, timidly.

"You look like a nice boy," the clown said. "I bet you have a lot of friends." He told him.

"Four, but my brothers my best-best." He told the clown reluctantly.

"And where is he?" The clown asked, smiling.

"In bed, sick." Georgie said, sounding almost sad.

"I bet I could cheer him up!" The clown said sounding sure of itself. "I'll give him a balloon," The clown told Georgie. The young boy was hesitant he glanced to the side. "Do you want a balloon, too, Georgie?" It asked smiling.

"I'm not supposed to take stuff from strangers." He told the clown.

"Oh, well I'm Pennywise the _Dancing_ Clown!" The clown in the storm drain exclaimed with a smile. It's cheery presence rubbed off on you. _How_ , Georgie wondered, _could I have thought his eyes were yellow?_ They were a bright, dancing blue. "Pennywise. Yes? Meet Georgie. Georgie, meet Pennywise," Georgie smiled and giggled at the clown as if he were an old friend he hadn't seen in a while. "There, now we aren't strangers. Are we?" The clown said as if it were obvious.

That's when a woman walked out of her house. She was pulling up her blinds so they wouldn't sway so much in the wind when she saw such an odd sight. A little boy she knew from down the street crouching by the storm drain.

"What are you doing in the sewer?" George asked, innocently.

"Well, the storm blew me away. Blew the whole circus away," Pennywise the Dancing Clown giggled. His smile went away. "Do you smell the circus, Georgie?" He asked. Georgie leaned forward and suddenly could smell peanuts and vinegar. He could smell cotton candy and frying doughboys and the faint smell of wild animals. He smelled the cheery aroma of midway sawdust. And yet...

And yet under it all was the smell of flood and decomposing leaves and dark storm drain shadows. The smell that was wet and rotten. The cellar smell.

"There's peanuts... cotton candy... hot dogs... and...?"

"Popcorn?" Georgie guessed.

"Popcorn!" The clown exclaimed happily. "Is that your favourite?" It asked.

"Uh huh!" Georgie smiled.

"Mine too!" The clown laughed its goofy laugh. "Because they pop... pop, pop, pop, pop!" Georgie began laughing at this and the way his voice sounded. "Pop, pop, pop!"

"Pop!" Georgie added, still giggling along with the clown. It abruptly stopped laughing and let out a low growl as its left eye went lazy. The happy presence of the clown seemed less fun, and more... sinister. They sat for an awkward moment in silence.

"Uh.. I should get goin' now." He told the clown. It stared at the boy blankly, almost as if It was panicking.

"Without your boat?" It asked lifting his hand which had the paper boat in it. "You don't wanna lose it, Georgie. Bill's gonna kill you," It told him, narrowing Its eyes. "Here, take it," It smiled. "Take it, Georgie." Hesitantly, Georgie began reaching forward.. and--

"Little boy!" He heard an unfamiliar voice shout to him. He quickly drew his arm back and looked up. "Little boy!" He saw an older woman on her porch calling to him. "Get away from there!" She began walking off her porch and towards him. He got to his feet and stared, not really sure what to do with himself. "Don't you know you could get sucked in? You're small enough." She told him.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he said looking down at his toes and taking a glance toward the storm drain. The clown was gone as if it were never there. "It's just my boat got sucked in and--"

"Heavens, child! A paper boat is not worth your life," she said sternly, then sighed. "I suggest you go home. And be careful. You know about the disappearing kids, don't you?" She asked. He nodded his head even though he really knew very little about the situation.

"Yes, ma'am." He turned back up the road, and she watched him until he was out of view. She sighed again and was about to go inside when she glanced down at the drain.

"Hmph!" She exclaimed as though she'd heard a ridiculous tale. "Kids these days." She said to herself as she walked up to her porch and pet her cat.

Georgie returned home that day with his head hanging and he closed the front door behind him. He just stood there and cried until his mother, Shannon, stopped playing the piano and came to him. She crouched down to his level and looked at him sadly.

"What's wrong, George?" She asked her child who was still crying. Bill heard the sad little muffled cries coming from down the stairs and got up from his bed. His mother turned her head and looked at him. "Bill, sweetie, you should be in bed." She said, lovingly, like a mother should.

"I- I- I know, m- Mom. But what's wrong with G- Georgie?" He asked from the top of the stairs. Georgie looked up to where his brother was standing and began sobbing even louder. Bill came down the stairs and lightly grabbed Georgie's shoulder. "W- what's wrong?" He asked. The small child hugged his older brother tightly and continued crying.

"I lost your boat, Billy. I'm sorry," He cried. Bill just sighed. "I couldn't keep up with it." He said a bit after his crying died down.

" 'She', Georgie." Bill said. Georgie looked up at his brother and smiled.

"Fine, then. I couldn't keep up with 'she.' " He said. Their mother gave a short laugh and got up.

"At least you're okay," She smiled and patted her boys' heads. "George, please go upstairs and change into some dry clothes," He nodded and ran up the stairs. She turned to Bill. "And you, young man, need to get back into bed." She said crossing her arms. Bill smiled and was about to go upstairs when his mother pulled him into a hug. "I love you, Bill." She said to him and placed a quick kiss on the crown of his head.

“I love you, too, M- Mom." She released him and he went up the stairs to his room. He lay on his back on his bed and stared at the ceiling, tapping his fingers on his chest. He could have drifted off to sleep when a soft knock tapped on his door. He sat up and looked to the door.

“Come i- in." He said. Georgie had a light green towel placed atop his head when he opened the door. He looked sad.

"Bill, could I come in?" Georgie asked.

”W- well, I just s- s- said you could.” Bill replied, jokingly. The little boy entered the room and plopped himself down at the foot of Bill's bed.

“The boat fell down a storm drain."

"Oh." Bill said, sounding mildly disappointed. Georgie leaned in close to his brother as if he were about to tell him a secret.

"Can I tell you something that sounds silly but you promise you won't laugh?" Georgie whispered. Bill nodded, now leaning in as well. "Someone took the boat." He whispered again.

"W- what?" Bill asked, confused. "Who? Why are y- you acting like it's a big s- s- secret?" He asked the younger boy, with confusion. Georgie hung his head.

"You can't laugh," he started. Bill sighed then nodded. Georgie pointed his pinky out, needing Bill to promise. After a hesitant moment, bill entwined his pinky finger with Georgie's. "There..." he paused. "There was a clown in the sewer and he took the boat," Georgie looked into Bill's eyes with his own, truthful big eyes. "He was about to give it back, but an old lady told me to get away from there because I could get sucked in!" He added, quickly. Bill furrowed his eyebrows and leaned back. He could tell when Georgie was lying, and he knew he wasn't.

"Georgie, d- d- did you fall while you were playing outs- s- side?" He asked his brother. "Or did you catch m- my sickness?" He asked, reaching to touch Georgie's forehead with his hand. The younger boy scoffed and leaned back. He crossed his arms and looked furious.

"I knew you wouldn't believe me." He said, clearly hurt. He jumped off of the bed and stomped out the room.

"G- G- Georgie, wait!" Bill called to his brother. But he could already hear Georgie slamming his door and his mother shouting for them to quiet down. He sighed and leaned back and softly hit his head on the pillow. He wasn't sure when he fell asleep, but he knew he did because he remembered dreams of clowns and paper boats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I hope you all enjoyed this! I’m planning on continuing this story, so please give me some feedback, and let me know if there are any spelling errors. Please make sure to leave comments and kudos!


	2. The Bowers’ Gang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry for not posting this chapter earlier! I was grounded for a while. 
> 
> So this chapter basically just revolves around the Bowers’ Gang, and how they are..? I hope you like it!
> 
> Also! Mild NSFW, Racism and homophobia warning. ⚠️Bewaaaaaarrree⚠️

A week or so after the incident, it was finally Halloween for the Losers Club, and the rain had finally stopped. Bill, Richie, Eddie and Stan went as the Ghostbusters. And Bill got stuck taking Georgie out Trick or Treating, who went as Batman. The group wasn't... let's just say they weren't very happy about it.

"What the hell, Bill?" Richie said angrily as they waited in Bill's room for Georgie, who was getting into his costume.

"It's n-n-not my fault. My mom said th-th-that I had to." Bill told them defensively. Richie groaned while Eddie avoided eye contact as Stan just crossed his arms and shook his head.

“It just really sucks, Bill,” Eddie began, calmly. “Because of what happened last year.

"When we got stuck with the Bowers Gang." Stan reminded.  
Georgie and Avery Hockstetter had been friends since kindergarten, meaning more beatings for Bill because of time they would have to spend together. He could recount the numerous times he’d have to go over to the Hockstetter home to babysit Georgie and Avery with Patrick. He remembered the rest of the Gang would come over, leaving Bill to watch the kids while the older boys would watch porn in the basement or get high.

"I'm s-sorry, guys. I c-c-can't get out of this." Bill told them. That's when Georgie came through Bills bedroom door with his silly costume on and a cute grin on his face.

"I'm ready to go!" He announced. The four boys were silent before getting up from wherever they were sitting (or leaning) and heading towards the door.

"Alrighty, let's get this show on the road." Richie said to no one in particular. They grabbed their pillow cases and headed out the door.

"Be careful, love you!" Bill heard his mother call out just as he closed the door.

The five boys began walking down toward Witcham Street and talked about things like school and movies (or, in Richie's case, jokes).

"Georgie!" They all heard a young boy call out. They turned and Georgie's face lit up. He waved and began running toward his friend. And where four other boys were. Great. The Losers all groaned simultaneously and started walking to the other kids.  
George and Avery hugged. Avery was a boy who shared a very similar face to his brothers, but with softer features and a button nose. But they had the same dark hair (though Avery’s was shorter), the same gray-green eyes and the same Cheshire grin. He was dressed up as Superman, and the two boys immediately started talking about each others costumes.

As the for the other four boys, Henry Bowers was dressed as Michael Myers, Patrick Hockstetter was dressed as Leatherface, Victor Criss as Axl Rose, and Belch as Slash.

"Look-y, here," Patrick began. "It's the Losers Club." He grinned. The others chuckled.

"Look-y here, The Bowers Gang." Stan retorted, bravely. Before anyone could say anything else, Avery grabbed Georgie’s hand, and the two little boys ran off to hunt their treasured candy.  
The Losers crossed to the other side of the street in order to avoid the other group of four (and because they knew for a fact the other group wouldn’t do it to assert their dominance).

Stan nervously kept glancing at the other group, who kept stealing kids’ candy.

 _How could they be so cruel to almost everyone else,_ Stan thought, _but give Avery every ounce of love in their cold hearts?_

He wasn’t wrong. Avery was basically the entire groups younger brother, kind of how Georgie was like the Losers’ little brother. They would treat him kindly, despite the fact that most young children annoyed them. They would protect him no matter what.

“Stan?” He heard Richie wake him from his thoughts.

“Hmm?” He asked.

“Oh, good. I thought you were a mummy,” he chuckled. The other three boys looked at him with confusion. “Because he was walking, but he looked like he was dead?” He tried to explain. “Oh, whatever. It’s not funny if you have to explain the joke.” He said, slumping his shoulders. Eddie gave him a sympathetic pat on the back. So the night went on with Richie continuously making shitty jokes and children getting their candy stolen.

•••

The boys eventually made their way down near the local church which was giving out candy. They waited in a short line, waiting for their beloved candy.

“ _Billy Boy_.” Patrick whispered. Bill whipped his head to his right to see the tall boy a couple feet away from him as he wiggled his finger in a way to lure him. He had taken off his mask and a huge grin was spread across his features.

“Y-y-you can go, Stan.” Bill said, turning to his friend behind him in line.

“Okay. I’m not saving your spot for you.” Stan said to Bill as he walked over to Patrick.

“What i-is it?” Bill asked.

“Follow me.” And with that, Patrick was walking away. Bill followed next to him. They walked down Neibolt Street, past houses until they finally stopped at the house at the end. A house which was surely about to fall to the ground. A house with a yard covered in litter and dead grass. The infamous Neibolt house. Patrick starred up at the windows for a moment before walking up to the door.

 _Oh, my god. He’s gonna kill me. I’m about to die. At the hands of Patrick. What a pathetic way to die!_ The small voice inside Bill’s head screamed at him.

“Denbrough,” Patrick said, suddenly. “Come on.” He waited for Bill, and the boy finally realized what he said, and began to walk towards him. Patrick opened the squeaky door and casually walked in as if it were his own house. Bill followed in after him, and as soon as he closed the door behind him, he was slammed against it.

Patrick’s lips were on his own. It took a moment for the boy to register what was happening, and as soon as he did, his eyes grew wide with confusion and a bit of fear. The taller boys body was pushed against his, so Bill was trapped against the door. He slowly kissed the shorter boy and gently ran his hands through his hair until Bill tried to push him, and Patrick backed off. He looked down at his work of art. Bill’s lips were shiny with a coat of saliva on them, and his face had flushed pink. The lighting was far from good, but there was still a tiny shred of light in the sky which gave off muted purple light in the room.

“W-w-w-why d-did you d-do th-that?” Bill asked in a weak voice.

“Because I felt like it,” Patrick shrugged. “Did you like it?” He asked quietly, almost nervously. Bill looked down at his toes and clenched his fists around his pillow case. He didn’t exactly know what to say. Patrick could tell if he was lying, and he was afraid the rest of the gang would come out and beat him up, maybe call him homophobic slurs. He thought about that more. No, they’d make fun of Patrick, too.

“Y-Yes.” Bill replied almost too quiet to hear. Patrick grinned his Cheshire-like smile, and leaned in to kiss him again. This time was a bit less gentle. Bill finally relaxed, closed his eyes, and kissed him back. Patrick slid his tongue past Bill’s lips, searching every inch it could reach.

Bill couldn’t help it anymore, and let out a soft whine. He regretted it immediately. Patrick stopped all his movement and pulled back. Bill’s eyes were wide with embarrassment and he could only stare at Patrick. The taller boy cupped Bill’s chin, and scanned his face. He smiled softly with his eyebrows furrowed. He began kissing Bill again, and only when Bill kissed back is when he pinned Bill’s hips against the door with his own. The older boy chuckled into the kiss. Bill began to paw at Patrick’s shirt, but the older teen wouldn’t allow it. He’d keep messing with Bill’s hands, and eventually, he just had to try and hold them up against the door next to Bill’s head. Bill wanted more, he needed more.

“ _Patrick!_ ” The two boys heard Henry call from outside. All action immediately ceased and Patrick released anything pinned.

“ _I know I saw them come over here._ ” They heard Victor say. Bill’s heart was pounding 1000x faster than before. He knew he would get brutally butchered if they were caught doing... this. It was shameful for two boys to touch each other like this.

“ _He was with Bill, wasn’t he?_ ” Belch asked. No response. Bill assumed Victor nodded. Patrick gently pushed Bill away from the door, and stepped out. The tall boy was lucky for his covering costume, and the dark night, or else he would have to face probably one of the most embarrassing moments a boy could face.

“ _Hey, guys._ ” Bill heard Patrick say, nonchalantly. 

“ _What were you doing in there?_ ” Henry demanded.

“ _Oh, just exploring._ ” Bill could almost hear the smirk in Patrick’s voice. Yeah, exploring his sexuality, maybe.

“ _You should have told us. We would have gone with_.” Belch told him.

“ _Hey, didn’t I see that loser go with you?_ ” Victor asked. There was a brief silence.

“ _No, I think I saw him go towards the train yard. I would have followed him, but this place was just too tempting._ ” He replied with a bit of what almost sounded like sarcasm in his voice. Then there were receding footsteps, and they were gone. Bill let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He turned around, and was about to leave before he looked down and saw the tent in his pants. He leaned his forehead against the door and cursed. 

•••

Bill smoothed his hair back, and walked out into the streets, and back up to the church where his friends were waiting.

“You told me you saw that little shit sneak off to the train yard!” Bill heard Henry complain as he walked into the church parking lot. He looked around for Georgie to find him sitting on a chair one of the church members had probably provided with Avery sitting in another chair next to him, both boys leaning on each other almost asleep. He walked up to them, and Georgie sleepily looked up at him.

“D-do you th-think it’s time t-t-to go h-home?” He asked his brother. The little boy sleepily nodded, and slowly stood up.

“Bye, Avery. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Georgie said. Avery nodded with droopy eyelids, and then closed them. Then Bill saw his friends walking over to him.

“Dude, where’d you go?” Richie asked.

“Seriously, we were really worried.” Stan said.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asked doing a once over to check for any injuries. Bill felt as if he was being ambushed. He glanced over to the Bowers’s Gang who were obviously eavesdropping, and were all staring at him, then looked back to his friends.

“I-I walked down to the t-train y-y-yard.” He lied. Stan sighed, then looked down at Georgie, who was falling asleep while standing.

“I think it’s time to get this one home.” He said quietly to Bill. Richie poked Georgie’s cheek, and the little boys eyes popped open. The rest of the group began to walk their separate ways, leaving Georgie and Bill to walk home by themselves.

“Where’d you go with Patrick, Billy?” Georgie asked tiredly. Bill remained silent for a moment.

“H-h-h-he n-needed m-me t-to help h-h-him with s-something.” He lied. Georgie looked up at his older brother.

“Your stutter gets worse when you lie.” The little boy muttered.

“W-what? N-n-no it d-doesn’t!” Bill said, angrily.

“Yes, it does.” Georgie told him with a surprising amount of calmness in the little boys voice. Bill just scoffed and continued walking alongside Georgie. They got home at 8:17PM. Their mother was on the couch reading, and greeted them when they got inside. Their father had already gone to bed because he had grown tired from work. Bill and Georgie did a candy exchange, then Bill went up into him room, changed into his pajamas, and crashed onto his bed. He was exhausted. It had been a long night.

•••

Victor and Belch both knew they saw Patrick go inside Neibolt with Bill. They knew what he was probably going to do, because they also knew Patrick’s feelings towards boys _and_ girls. But, Patrick did not know they knew. The only member who didn’t know about Patrick’s feelings was Henry...

or so they thought. The Gang had driven a couple out a hours out of Derry to see a rock concert back in August. Belch decided it was too dangerous to drive so late in the dark, so they pulled onto an off road next to a forest and slept in the car. Nobody really fell asleep that night because it was so uncomfortable, trapped inside of such a small car filled with four teenage boys. Around 4:00AM, Patrick had gotten up and left the car.

“Where are you going?” Belch whispered to Patrick before he closed the door. Patrick jumped at the sudden sound and accidentally kicked the door, and the sound got Vic to fully wake up, and Henry was just listening to the whole ordeal.

“God, you scared me,” he chuckled. “I’m just going for a stroll. It’s cramped as fuck in there.” He told them.

“Whatever. Just be careful.” Belch said, placing his hat over his face. Patrick stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked off into the cool Summer air. After about 20 minutes, Henry began to worry. Wait, no. Not worry. Henry Bowers does not worry about people. He sat up in the chair he had leaned back so he could lay down, and reached for the door handle. As he was stepping out of the car, he heard Vic whisper.

“Patrick, be quieter.” He said with his eyes closed.

“Not Patrick, dumbass.” Henry snipped.

“Fuck, sorry.” Vic whispered.

“Where are you going?” Belch asked from beneath his cap.

“The fucker’s been gone for 20 minutes. He probably got eaten by a fuckin’ bear, or somethin’.” Henry told them. They both just groaned, and tried to fall asleep. Henry wandered off into the night, looking for Patrick. “Patrick? Patrick, where the fuck are you?” Henry whisper-shouted into the trees. He was extremely lucky the moon was so bright that night.

 _He actually got eaten by a bear, didn’t he?_ Henry thought for a moment. Suddenly, he heard a slight groan somewhere. “Patrick?” He whispered. He followed the sounds of the groaning until he saw Patrick sitting on the ground with his back propped up against a tree. He was about to say something to him when he noticed what was going on. Patrick’s black skinny jeans were pulled down to his knees, and his hands were stroking his cock. Henry backed up under a tree where the light couldn’t reach him, and knew that he was turning red. He would have turned around and left Patrick, until he heard what came out of Patrick’s mouth next.

“Oh, H-Henry...” the lanky boy whispered. _Shit, did he see me?_ Henry thought. “Please...” Patrick let out, his tone laced with lust.  
_Is he... thinking about... me?_ Henry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was going to be sick... until his tightening pants told him otherwise. He looked down, and almost gasped, but he knew Patrick would hear him. Henry started to back away from Patrick, and pulled his muscle shirt down past his crotch. He made his way back to the car, and both of the other boys immediately groaned as he slammed the car door closed.

“Do you have to be so loud?” Belch complained.

“Fuck off.” Henry huffed as he laid down on the seat.

“Find Patrick?” Vic asked.

“No. I’m sure he’s fine, though.” Henry lied. Vic shrugged, and laid his head back down on the window. A little while later, Patrick returned to the car. It was probably around 5:00 in the morning. Belch sighed as Patrick entered the car.

“Should we just start driving?” Belch asked the rest of the group which he knew was awake.

“Yeah.” Vic replied.

“Definitely.” Patrick told him.

“I don’t give a damn.” Henry remarked. After a few moments of silence, Belch sighed again, and started up the car.

Victor and Belch found out a few weeks later in early September. The four boys decided to stay the night at Patrick’s for a group project in school. It was the first time they had one in a few years because Patrick’s mother was extremely picky about keeping her house clean. She made an exception for school.

“Welcome to my humble home.” Patrick said as he unlocked and opened his front door. Avery shoved passed the four of them and stomped up into his bedroom. He was upset that Patrick’s friends were allowed to stay overnight when he had never had a sleepover. Nobody was home except for the five boys; Patrick’s and Belch’s moms always met up on Fridays (to discuss things such as their kids, school shopping, and other things), and Patrick’s dad was at work.  
When Patrick and Avery’s mother got home, she was shocked to find the boys actually working on their science project.

“Patrick, would you please come help me with dinner?” She had walked into his room and asked. The tall boy sighed, but got up and agreed to help; it was something he helped her with every night.

“I’ll be right back,” Henry told Victor and Belch. “I’m gonna go take a shit.” He said and walked out.

“Alright, then.” Belch said as he added some green paint to their interpretation of a plant cell.

“Hey.” Vic whispered to Belch as he poked his shoulder.

“Hmm?” He asked, tearing his attention away from the painting.

“We should look through his things.” The blonde boy said with a devilish grin on his lips. Belch chuckled at Vic’s immature idea.

“Okay.” Belch said to the blonde as he stood up. First, they looked in his closet. There was a dresser with four drawers. In the first three, all they found was clothing. Boring! In the last one, they found a whole collection of junk; spare lighters, hairspray, lighter fluid, a green ruler, some condoms, and a bit of lose change. Nothing important. Next, they looked under his bed. At first, all they found was some old socks and totes full of LEGO’s, but Belch heard Vic mutter something.

“What the fuck?” The skinny blonde boy had muttered.

“What is it?” The round boy asked him. Victor sat up, and there was a curled up magazine in his hands. At first, Belch was confused and thought it was just a magazine, but as he looked closer, he saw what it was. The cover had a half naked model on the front. A male model. Victor slowly opened it up, and the first page had another man in a heated situation with a woman. The rest of the magazine was mostly men. They knew exactly what this was. It was a pornographic magazine for _women_.

“So he’s... into guys?” Belch asked no one in particular. There was a heavy silence that filled the room.

“I mean, I guess so...” Victor said after a while. “You’re... not gonna tell Henry, are you?” Vic asked.

“Oh god, no.” Belch replied quickly. There was a feeling of relief. For some reason, neither wanted Henry to find out, and they both knew the other felt that way. They both knew how Patrick would be treated after that. They cared about their ‘fearless leader’ Henry, but they also cared about Patrick. They weren’t gonna risk ruining a perfectly good friendship. Suddenly, there were footsteps coming down the hall. Victor violently threw the magazine back underneath the bed as Belch grabbed the paintbrush he had left on a paper towel. Henry walked in and just stared at them for a moment.

“Anything wrong?” Belch asked in an odd tone.

“You’re holding the brush backwards.” He replied, and walked over to sit on Patrick’s bed. Belch quickly flipped the brush around as Vic chuckled at him. Patrick called them down for dinner just as they finished the project.

•••

Patrick and the rest of the gang walked back a few blocks to get Belch’s car. Victor carried the sleeping child bridal style in his arms. Belch dropped off Patrick and Avery first because he didn't want to have the kid sleeping in his car too long. He would then drop off Victor and Henry, who lived in the country part of Derry. They lived on the same street, but at opposite ends. The one who lived in the middle was a boy named Mike. True, they bullied him, but never on his own property. They had once pestered him while he was working in the field behind his house.

It was a boiling July morning. The boy, Mike, was scything the field. He gracefully swung the scythe around in the tall grass whilst humming a pretty little tune to himself, trying to distract himself from his aching muscles. He heard some footsteps behind him, but didn’t think much of it, assuming it was his grandpa. Before he knew it, he was being violently hurled to the ground. Mike let out a pained yelp as he fell on his right shoulder; It was _definitely_ dislocated. The scythe flew down next to his head. As he looked up, he saw Henry Bowers and Victor Criss at the end of the scythe.

“Hey, Mikey.” The blonde boy said in a taunting tone. Henry leaned on the scythe; his hands resting at the end, with his chin on top while Victor leaned on his elbow. They were a mighty kingdom with no balance, about to collapse.  
Mike squirmed around on the ground, trying to back away from these insane little boys. He was in pain, but he was not weak.

“Vic, would you look at that! I think he’s trying to leave!” Henry said in a shrill sort of tone.

“You’re right, Henry. I think he is trying to leave.” Vic said, trying to accommodate to what Henry was going to do.

“Well, we can’t let that happen! Why would you want to leave the party already, Mikey?” Henry asked as he reached down for Mike’s white shirt. He lifted the boy up by his collar, and raised him high enough that his toes were barely touching the ground. He yelled out in a mix of fear and pain as his arm loosely dangled at his side.  
“Now,” Henry growled out, his eyes were filled with a crazed sort of gleam... and something else? Mike couldn’t tell this state of fear.  
“We’re gonna show you how to-- _oww_!” Henry yelped out as he felt a sharp pain hit him in the back of the head. Mike’s grandfather had whacked him.

“Don’t you boys know anything?” The old man said angrily as he wiped his hand on his jeans, as if he was discarding a germ the boy could have shared through his hair.  
“This is our property, and you just decide to come up to a poor, unsuspecting boy and whack him? What kind of person does that?!” The old man choked on anger as he watched Henry slowly lower Mike to the ground. He didn’t even know what to say; he was filled to the brim with rage, and the boiling sun did not help the boys’ case.  
“And I’ve already called the cops.” He told them truthfully. Leroy knew Butch was Henry’s father, and he may have hated that man, but he believed he would whip Henry into shape. He wasn’t completely wrong about the whipping part. Henry’s eyes grew wide with a fear no other man could possibly comprehend, and he bolted.

“Henry!” Victor called to him. But he was already gone. Victor looked at the other two with a look of disgust, anger, and pity before he bolted in the same direction Henry had.

“Come on now, Mike. It’s okay.” Leroy said to the boy as he helped him inside.

Victor knew exactly where Henry ran. Back home to call Belch. By the time the blonde boy got inside, he already heard Henry rapidly speaking into the telephone.

“I- I need you to come pick us up,” he told Belch. “I know you’re busy, but... it’s my dad.” With that, Vic heard a brief _I’m on my way_ , and then the line disconnect. Henry turned around, and Vic fully saw his face. He was crying. He felt so small and weak. Vic remembered that look from the first time they met in kindergarten. When his mother had left. Henry furiously wiped his eyes. He was not going to let Vic see him cry, despite the fact that he’s cried in front of him more times that he can count.  
Belch and Patrick got there around 30 minutes later, just 4.9 minutes before the cops would arrive. Henry remembers going to a sunflower field with them all that day. He also remembers his fathers words:

“If you’re going to assault the nigger, don’t get caught!” He told him angrily. He then remembered a beer bottle being smashed over his head.

•••

Victor was still holding the sleeping child in his arms while Patrick unlocked his front door. Patrick’s mother was in the kitchen, and on the phone (assumingely with Belch’s mother), while his father was watching television. The woman had given her boys her beautiful wavy dark hair. Avery inherited her soft features, while Patrick received his fathers sharper features. Their father had also given them their green eyes, while their mother had blue ones; neither of them had gotten their fathers strawberry blonde hair.

“Oh, hold on, Cathy,” she said into the receiver, and placed her hand over it. “Is he asleep?” She whispered to the boys. They nodded, and she continued chatting on the phone.  
The blonde boy placed Avery in his bed, and Patrick walked him out. It was starting to lightly rain.

“See ya, shit heads!” He yelled to them as they drove away. He saw Belch stick his hand out the window, and flip him off. He walked back inside and ran up to his room before his father could stop, and interrogate him with questions. He quickly changed into an old _KISS_ shirt and sweatpants, and headed back downstairs to grab a snack. When his mother caught him digging around in the pantry, she gently whacked him on the head. He laughed, for he had already grabbed a Fruit Snack, and tried to run away, but his mother grabbed the back of his t shirt. He turned around, and found her holding up his mixtape and headphones. She put her hand over the receiver again, and whispered to him.

“I found these in the laundry room.” She handed them to her son.

“Thanks, mom.” He whispered back to her, and placed a kiss on her temple. He then bolted up to his room. The good thing about having clean-freak for a mom is that she always knows where everything is and where everything’s supposed to go.  
He placed his headphones over his ears, and it turned out he was in the middle of a Mötley Crüe song. It then changed into _I Want to Make Love to You_ by Foghat. He listened whilst laying on his bed, and relaxed. The song was oddly calming to him. He listened as his eyelids grew heavy, and he could no longer keep them open.

He woke up in a cold sweat, and bolted upright. His heart was pounding, and it felt like it was gonna burst. After a moment of doing a few breathing exercises his mother had taught him, and his heart rate came down, he took off his headphones which were blaring Blue Öyster _Cult’s (Don’t Fear) The Reaper_. He then glanced over at the clock.

_4:19AM_

He laid back down, and tried to fall asleep again, but recalling the nightmare over and over again did nothing to ease his stress.

He remembered a tall... man? No, it was a clown. He remembered the big, stupid red puffs on his shirt and the red balloons.

 _Would you like a balloon, Patty?_ It had asked him. It’s strange voiced echoed throughout Patrick’s mind. It had to be standing at least 10 feet away; Patrick wasn’t sure how he was hearing him so clearly. A big dumb smile was on It’s face as it offered a balloon to him.

 _Don’t call me that._ Patrick had told the clown. It was a nickname only six people could call him. Anyone else who used that nickname were making fun of him, and he knew it.

 _Ooohhh. Is that any way to treat a friend, Patty?_ It mocked him, the corner of It’s lips tugging downwards.

 _I said don’t call me that!_ He yelled at It. The clown released all of the balloons, and let them all float away. It’s arms went to It’s sides, and tightly stuck there. It’s demeanor suddenly changed, and the sunny blue sky quickly began turning dark. Patrick only now realized that they were standing in a field.

 _Pattttyyyyyyy. You shouldn’t have been so mean._ It growled out at him. Suddenly It’s face began changing. It’s eyes were going opposite directions, and It’s face slowly began mutating and changing. It started to shrink. Patrick watched in horror as it took form of what appeared to be some sort of misshapen dog. Patrick was terrified of dogs ever since a pit bull had chased him in a park when he was little. The dog-like creature looked at Patrick with a terrifying thirst.

And it began bolting towards him. The grotesque legs snapping whenever one would touch the ground, and a deeply disturbing sound escaping it. It sounded like a mix of an old man wheezing and screeching. Patrick screamed, and that’s when he woke up.


	3. Winter Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey... It’s been a while. I wasn’t going to post this chapter because it isn’t really apart of the plot, but here I am! I hope you guys don’t mind. I know I haven’t posted a chapter for this story in a while, and you were probably looking forward to a plot-based chapter. Anyways, please enjoy<3

On December 23rd, 1988, it was finally Winter Break. The rain in October and November had finally turned into snow. As soon as the last bell of the day rang, Richie dashed to his locker as quick as he could, accidentally crashing into a few peoples shoulders. He attempted getting his locker open four times before getting it because he continuously kept messing up with his shaking hands. He was so anxious to get out of there.

Reason being: Victor Criss continuously kept glancing at him in fourth period. It was the last day of the semester, and Richie didn’t really feel like getting ambushed that day. Once he shoved everything he needed into his backpack and zipped it up, he saw the not-so naturally blonde being released late from a classroom (probably for doing something stupid, then getting into trouble). Richie quickly yanked his backpack and coat from his locker, slammed the door shut with his foot, and launched himself down the hallway at full speed.

“Hey, watch it, Trashmouth!” Gretta Keene had angrily shouted to him after he accidentally hit her with his backpack. He barely even heard her (even if he would have, he wouldn’t have cared), his mind and body were rushing with adrenaline. Once he saw the doors to exit, he began gradually slowing down. Just a few feet away! Then he saw Belch Huggins and Henry Bowers walking down the other hallway. The adrenaline kicked in again. He held out his hands to open the door, then slipped on ice, nearly falling on his face once he was outside. 

The bitter cold air hit his bare arms like frozen knives. His cheeks turned pink, and his nose began to run. He quickly pulled on his winter coat, and walked over to the curb while pulling on his mittens. He looked around for a moment; there were no other kids outside. Usually there were a bunch of people out by now. Maybe he was the first one out for once? The last bell rings at 3:05. It was 3:09.  Maybe . He pulled his knitted hat over his head and ears, then wrapped his scarf snuggly around his neck and over his nose. Thankfully, his glasses mostly shielded his eyes.

He was only realizing now how quiet it was. Even with how hard it was snowing. He couldn’t hear any wind or...  anything . Only his own breathing and shuffling.

_When is mom gonna get here?_ Richie asked himself. He checked his watch again. 3:12. Where is everyone? He stiffly walked back up to the front doors to get out of the cold. He attempted to open them, but they were locked? Richie furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“What the fuck?” He mumbled to himself. He cupped his hands over his eyes, and peered through the glass doors. No one was inside. “Where the fuck is everybody?!” He yelled to no one. He looked around into the snowing sky and started to panic. He didn’t want to be alone. 

_Thishastobeadreamthishastobeadreamthishastobeadreamthishastobeadreamthishastobeadreamthishasto_ _-_. He kept repeating it in his mind like a broken record. But another voice crept in. One he couldn’t recognize. It was faint, but it almost sounded like a cartoon character from a show he WOULD have impersonated, but just... didn’t.

_Ooohh, of course everyone’s gone. Why would they want to be around some silly little Trashmouth like you who just annoys them all the time? HAHAHAHAHHA!_ The voice said to him. Richie leaned against the wall by the doors, and closed his eyes. Now all he could hear was a the distant sound of wind blowing.

“HAHAHAHAHA!” All of Richie’s senses alerted him when he heard that same laughter out loud. He opened his eyes to see what looked like... a clown? That was definitely a clown. It had to be six feet tall at the least. It was wearing a dirty white silk suit, with cuffs, gloves, with a ruff covering It’s neck. Down It’s chest were three red pompoms.

The waist had what seemed to be a tunic, draped down to the thighs, with his legs covered in the same silk-looking cloth. It wore shoes, and at the ends, a single red pompon.

It was standing in the street with a bouquet of red balloons in his hands. Richie watched It; he didn’t even realize how much fear was filling up inside him. Before he knew it, he was walking towards It. He stopped at the curb.

“Who are you?” He asked under his breath. He didn’t even notice that his own feet were slowly moving towards It. He reached his right arm out to touch It; see if It was real. He was only a few inches away when he suddenly felt a set of arms wrap around his torso from the back, and he was being violently pulled away from the clown. His world was suddenly spinning, and his shoulder collided with the hard ground along with the person who had grabbed him. Then he realized he was being yanked up by his shoulders. Everything was happening too fast. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Victor Criss shouted at him. It wasn’t a violent,  your-eardrums-are-gonna-start-bleeding  type of scream like Henry’s. It was loud, but only for people within a decently close proximity. That’s just how the boy was; silent but deadly (It was a reoccurring joke between the Losers’). Richie was being held away at arms length with Vic’s hands gripped firmly on his shoulders. 

“Ohuh?” Richie said in his dazed state. He didn’t even even register who was holding onto him. The brunette looked around in slow bewilderment as if he was only now seeing the world.

“Did you not hear me?!” The older boy shouted again. Richie blinked a few times before his field of vision finally focus. He saw Vic’s face, and anyone who saw the look of realization on Richie’s features felt immediate pity for him.

“V-Vic!” Richie squealed in fear. His mind began to run again with adrenaline. “What the fuck is happening?!” He shrieked. He didn’t know what to do or what was happening anymore.

The older boy was infuriated with this kids lack of communication at the moment. He was Richie Fucking Tozier. He’d talk any poor souls ear off. 

“You literally walked out in front of a fucking truck!” He yelled at him once again. Richie studied Victor’s facial expression for a moment, trying to tell if he was yanking his chain or something. Vic only realized he was still holding onto Richie’s shoulders when the brunette glanced down at his gloved hand. He then scoffed and let go. Victor glanced around to see that everyone was staring at the commotion, then walked away. Richie was surprised to not have been punched in the gut. Vic saw Belch and the others parked in the Trans Am just a bit down the street. He knew they must have seen everything as he hopped into the back seat through the window, and felt the warm air blowing from the vents.

“What was that whole thing?” Henry asked from the passenger seat. Everyone was looking at Vic, expecting an answer.

“That fucking moron almost got squashed by a truck.” He told them truthfully as he reached his hand into his coat, and grabbed a cigar. Patrick quickly lit it for him. Everyone was silent for a moment.

“And you helped him? Man, you should have seen what happened if you hadn’t!” Patrick joked as he was leaning on Henry’s seat. Everyone else started giggling like children. “Seriously, he would have just went...  _psshhh_. ” Patrick made a motion of someone being ran over with his hands. They had a good laugh before Belch put the car into Drive, and sped down the icy street like an idiot.

( _so they really do care about them_ ) A strange creature said to itself somewhere under Derry.

( _they can’t have them mine mine mine mine mine not theirs mine mine not theirs_ )

••• 

“Dude, are you okay?” Eddie asked as he and the others walked up to Richie. He honestly didn’t know anymore. He saw a fucking clown in the street. 

“Of course I am, my Eddie Spaghetti! Why wouldn’t I be?” He asked with a smile on his face as he gently pinched Eddie’s cheeks. The shorter boy immediately whacked his hands away. The ‘germs’ on Richie’s hands would definitely spread to Eddie’s face if he touched him (despite the fact that he was wearing mittens).

“Seriously, Richie. Wipe that shit-eating grin off your face. You could have died.” Stan said angrily at the fact that he was treating this like some sort of joke. They had all walked outside together. Stan could still hear Eddie’s scream of terror when they all saw that truck come barreling down the street with Richie being only three feet away. Richie just rolled his eyes. He was fine. Because of Victor Criss. If he was being honest, he still didn’t completely comprehend what had happened. 

“Aww, you guys care about me!” Richie cheered dramatically with a faux smile on his face.

“R-R-Richie, w-would you just t-talk to us?” Richie avoided their eye contact. He looked up, and saw his mom’s car pulling up.

“I’ve... got to go.” And the boy shuffled off towards his mother’s car. He hopped inside, and they drove away. 

The group of three boys stood there in silence for a moment.

“D-d-do you guys think R-Richie’s been acting s-s-strange?” Bill asked, staring at the ground.

“No,  _not at all_. ” Stan replied sarcastically. Bill rolled his eyes at the curly-haired boy.

Eddie’s mother picked him up, then Stan’s, and then Bill’s dad came to pick him up last. The boy immediately hopped inside, needing to get out of the cold. 

“Hi, d-dad,” Bill said as he climbed into the passenger seat. “H-hi, G-G-Georgie.” 

“Hiya, Billy!” The little boy greeted cheerily from the back seat.

“Hey, Bill. How was school?” Their dad asked Bill as he buckled his own seat belt. 

“I-it was f-f-fine.” Bill replied.

“Just  fine ? C’mon, it’s the last day of the semester. Nothing exciting happened?” His dad asked. Bill sighed in frustration. What was this, an interrogation?

“I-it’s o-o - only the l-last day for t-two weeks.” Bill told him. His father shrugged in agreement, and continued driving down the road. Their home was only a few minutes from Derry High School, but Bill’s parents insisted on picking him up during the winter time. Same with Georgie. The Elementary School was just two blocks from the High School.

They arrived at their home, and Bill and Georgie quickly discarded of the three extra layers of clothing their mother made them wear. Bill left wearing a pair of baggy blue jeans, and a red sweater wit. Georgie wore a pair of blue jeans, and a thick green sweater with a thin tank top under to separate his skin from the itchy material. 

Bill grabbed his sketchbook from his backpack, and ran up to his room. He  had  to draw how Stan, Richie and Eddie looked with the snowflakes sprinkled in their locks of hair. He had to draw them while the memory was still fresh in his mind. They were beautiful. Always had been to Bill. He loved his... friends.

_That’s all they are to me._ Bill told himself as he began drawing Stan’s curls. As he was adding the finishing touches to Stan’s eyes, he heard a knock on the door.

“C-come in.” He mumbled as he intently looked down at the paper. The door crept open, and Georgie stood behind it holding onto the handle.

“Mommy’s making cocoa and cookies. Do you want any?” The little boy asked his older brother. Billy tore his gaze away from his drawing to look at Georgie. Bill furrowed his eyebrows. Something was off. 

“Uh... s-s-sure.” Bill replied, studying Georgie. 

“Mkay.” Georgie replied quickly as he turned to close the door. 

“Uh, G-Georgie. Are y-you okay?” Bill asked. The little boy raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Why?” He questioned. Bill shrugged, and looked back to his paper. 

“It’s n-nothing. Never mind.” He said and resumed scribbling beautiful lines of graphite across the page.

_What was off with him?_ Bill began thinking.  _Was it his hair? No._ The older boy couldn’t quite pin-point it. It wasn’t until he was adding the finishing touches to the sketch that it hit him. The little boy wasn’t smiling. Georgie had always been this adorable, goofy kid. He always smiled when he had come up to Bill’s room in the past winters. A tradition: On the last day of the first semester of school, their mother whips up a big batch of cocoa and cookies, and allows the boys’ friends over. Bill’s would stay the night because they were ‘more mature.’ Georgie always hopped up to Bill’s room with a big smile on his face, asking if he wanted any. Of course, he always said ‘yes.’

Bill stood from his desk, and stretched his aching muscles. Sitting in the same position with your back hunched over wasn’t the best thing for his spine. It gave a satisfying  crack , and he left the room. The smell of baking cookies filled his senses as he opened up his bedroom door and walked down the stairs. He wandered his way into the kitchen, and heard his parents and brother watching television in the other room.

“H-hi, guys.” Bill called as he approached the oven to look at the baking pieces of heaven.

“Oh, hi Bill,” his mother began. “Do you want to start calling up your friends?” She asked him. He agreed, and walked over to the telephone. The boy began dialing up Richie’s number.

“Hello? Maggie Tozier speaking.”  Bill heard Richie’s mother say from the other end.

“H-hello, Mrs. Tozier? It’s B-B-Bill Denbrough. I w-was wond-.” The boy began.

“ Why, hi there, Bill. How’ve you been?”  She asked.

“I-I’ve been well. Thank y-you, ma’am. What a-about you?” He asked politely. 

“ Oh, I’ve been good. Now, let me guess... you’re calling for Richard to stay over?”  She asked. It was always strange for Bill to hear Richie be referred to as ‘Richard.’

“Yes, m-ma’am.” He replied. She chuckled on the other end.

“Alrighty, I’ll drop him off. Tell your mom I say ‘hello.’ Goodbye, now.” She said to him.

“I will. G-goodbye.” He said and hung up. That woman always had to make small talk. It was hard enough trying to form one sentence, but she had to be cutting him off with her annoying questions.

“Oh, Billy! Don’t forget to call Avery’s mom!” Georgie called. Bill groaned, and looked up at the ceiling. The older boy called Sonia Kaspbrak, then the Uris home.

When he was done, he hesitantly dialed the Hockstetter home. The line rang three times before someone picked up.

“ Hockstetter speaking.” Patrick said on the other end. Bill cringed at it. He had thankfully been able to mostly avoid him since Halloween. Only a few run ins at school that never lasted long. 

“H-hello. This is Bill D-D-Denbrough from school,” the boy began calmly. “M-my mother m-m-made s-some h-hot chocolate a-and cookies. G-G-Georgie was w-wondering if Avery c-could come over, and h-have some.” Bill said, trying his best to sound mature. It was quiet on the other line for a moment. 

“Only Avery, huh?”  He heard Patrick say. Bill wanted to hit the phone against his head and scream.

“A-and of course, y-you’re welcome, t-too.” The boy said through gritted teeth. He immediately regretted it when he could practically hear Patrick smirk through the phone.

“I’ll have to ask my mom. Hold on...” The older boy replied. Bill waited a few moments.  “Yes, we can make it.”  Patrick replied suddenly, causing Bill to jump a tiny bit.

“A-alright. I g-g-guess we’ll see you then.” Bill said, awkwardly.

“See you there, doll face.” Patrick crooned, and then the line disconnected. Bill stood there, staring at the wall in shock. A deep blush was crossing his cheeks and nose. The hum of the phone hypnotic.

“Bill, you alright there, buddy?” His father (who was now suddenly in the kitchen) asked. Bill just nodded, and placed the phone back onto the receiver. The boy ran upstairs, leapt onto his bed, and shrieked into his pillow with a mix of confusion, excitement, and nervousness. He laid there for a few minutes when the doorbell rang. He quickly got up, and bolted down the stairs to the front door. He opened it up to see Stan there, holding his overnight bag, while Eddie was walking up the sidewalk with a much larger bag, and Richie’s mothers’ car was pulling up on the street. The boy sighed in relief. He saw Richie hop outside of the moving car (thankfully it was moving slowly), and then run up to the house before his mother could scold him. What was with this boy and dangerous decisions with cars today?

“H-Hey, guys! C-come in.” Bill said. They did, and quickly removed their boots and coats (and other unneeded accessories).

“Where’s the cookies, Billy boy?” Richie asked in one of his numerous impressions. Stan rolled his eyes (as he usually does), and Georgie came running around the corner.

“Did you call Avery?” Georgie asked, a bit out of breath. Bill cringed, but forced it into a smile.

“S-sure did,” he said. “And g-guess what. Patrick is also c-c-coming!” He said as he glanced over at his friends in a way of warning. They froze. Georgie smiled, then ran off. 

“If we run, we could still catch my mom’s car.” Richie said as he turned to Eddie and Stan.

“G-guys, I’m so s-s-sorry,” Bill said in an honest tone. “I didn’t m-mean to invite h-him.” 

“How do you accidentally invite someone, Bill?” Eddie said angrily. Bill nervously looked down at his toes. Eddie sighed and then proceeded to give the taller boy an awkward side hug. He knew Bill would never invite  Patrick Hockstetter on purpose.

Then the bell rang.

They froze.

There was knocking.

“Is no one gonna answer the door for that boy?” Bill’s mother asked as she approached the door. As she reached for the handle, all four boys took a few steps back. They felt a cool gust of wind enter the house as the door opened which gave them goosebumps. There stood the Hockstetter boys in all their glory. “Oh! Hello, Patrick. I didn’t expect to see you here.” Mrs. Denbrough greeted in a fake cheerful tone. She knew Patrick wasn’t a gray kid...

“Well, Bill invited me. I assumed he would have told you,” He said, mustering up a fake mature tone. “I can always go back to the car. I wouldn’t want to be here when I’m not wanted.” He said as he put on a little puppy face. The Losers’ had never wanted to punch him more. 

Okay, that’s probably not true.

“Of course you can stay. I’ve made enough cookies to last a lifetime.” Bill’s mother replied with the same fake cheerful tone, and walked away. Then Georgie came barreling through the house at the speed of light.

“Avery! You came!” He panted out with a happy little grin on his face. 

“Mmhm. But mommy said we have to be back by 7:00. Because of the curfew,” The boy said calmly. He then glanced over at the four boys. “You guys look like the Scooby Gang.” The boy said to Bill, Richie, Eddie, and Stan. The four took a step away from one another. It was currently 5:47, so Avery quickly removed his winter gear, and was dragged off to play. The five older boys awkwardly stood there in the entryway, completely silent. Patrick tried covering the smirk making its way up his features, but failed.

“So...” Richie began, attempting to break the silence. “Who’s up for a game of Monopoly?” The brunette asked as he spread a faux grin across his face, shaking his jazz hands. Patrick looked the boy up and down before smirking, and began walking up the stairs. The four boys looked at each other for a moment, then quickly ran after him. The lanky boy let himself into Bill’s room, and flopped himself down on the bed as the three others left their bags in the corner of the room.

“Nice posters, nerd.” Patrick said as he began flicking his lighter, referring to Bill’s  Star Trek  poster. Bill hummed in response as he quickly covered his sketchbook with a package of pencils. Stan glared at him.

“I thought we were losers.” Eddie muttered under his breath, sounding annoyed. The tall boy clearly heard him, because he raised one of his eyebrows and scoffed which made the hypochondriac instinctively reach for his inhaler. The room remained silent aside from the incessant click of the lighter. Richie glanced out the window.

“It sure is snowing, isn’t it?” He stated. The rest of the boys looked.

“I hope the roads don’t get blocked.” Eddie said as he approached the window. Richie and Stan followed to look at the heavy snow that was piling on top of their fragile world. Bill stood behind the three, and Patrick snuck up behind him. They seemed to be entranced, watching as the flakes of snow hit the ground as if they were all young children.

Then there was a sudden small thump in the hallway. Their heads snapped to the door, and two small boys came through it.

“Cookies are done!” They cheered in unison. Patrick chuckled at his little brother. The fact that he could get so happy over such small things as cookies. The boys all headed down the stairs in search for their beloved treasure. They found Mrs. Denbrough pulling the hot tray out of the oven.

“Ooh, careful!” She shouted as she placed the cookies on a cooling rack. The boys waited a few minutes before eating them as Mrs. Denbrough boiled the milk for the hot chocolate. She had them eat at the dining table in fear of them making an atrocious mess. It was quiet amongst the older boys while Georgie and Avery chatted. Too awkward amongst them. Stan was eating at such a slow pace that it barely even counted while Eddie broke his into pieces, and ate them that way. Bill poked at his, and Richie was attempting to build a tower with his own. Patrick was the only one actually eating his. The boy had no shame. 

“So Stan, you got a new Walkman for Hanukah, right?” Richie asked in an attempt to start up a conversation. The curly haired boy nodded. “You know what songs you’ll add yet?” Richie asked.

“Uhh.. I’m not sure yet.” He replied nervously. Patrick perked up at the mention of music.

“What kind of music are you in to, Flamer?” Patrick asked as he looked Stan up and down. The boy turned red at the nick name Patrick had given him.

“Ahh, Stan the Man here is really lovin’ Queen at the moment.” Richie replied confidently. Stanley rolled his eyes at Richie’s nick name. It was still better than being referred to as ‘Flamer’. 

“Hmm. Mkay.” He mumbled as he watched the lighter click.

“What about you?” Stan asked quietly. 

“What _about_ me?” Patrick asked.

“What music do you like?” Stan asked, a little louder. Patrick shrugged, then capped his lighter.

“KISS, Mötley Crüe, Foghat, Blue Öyster Cult, AC/DC. That kind of stuff,” Patrick replied calmly as he put his lighter in his pocket. “Why?” He asked. Stan looked like he was debating on what he should say. And he was.

“Just trying to make conversation.” He said. It was quiet for just a second.

“Alright.” Patrick replied, then took a drink from his hot chocolate. The older boys finished their snack and drink, then headed up to Bill’s room. Patrick decided to tag along, and maybe torture them. Instead, he just dug through Bill’s things.

“I can’t wait for the weather to start warming up. I wanna go to the Arcade, but mom doesn’t like me out in the snow.” Richie complained. 

“M-maybe she d-d-doesn’t like you o-out because it gets dark e-earlier.” Bill said.

“Why would that matter?” Richie asked.

“When it’s dark out, it’s easier to... take a kid.” Stan replied, knowing what Bill meant. 

“Oh.” Richie said quietly. Then Patrick groaned.

“Your room is so boring. Don’t you have anything I can blackmail you with?” He nagged. Richie almost laughed, while Stan looked annoyed and Eddie just furrowed his brows in confusion at the older boy.

“If it’s s-so b-boring, then get out,” Bill replied bluntly without thinking. Eddie’s jaw dropped at Bill’s sudden confidence. His eyes then grew wide as he realized what he had just said. “I-I-I mean...”. Bill sputtered out, not able to form a sentence. Patrick rolled his eyes, not really catching on to Bill’s little attitude. 

“Then I will.” Hereplied nonchalantly, and then left.

•••

Patrick hopped down the stairs while whistling to see Mrs. Denbrough on the phone.

“Yes, alright. I’ll let your boys know. Bye, now.” She said politely before putting the phone down.

“Was that my mom?” The teenage boy asked. 

“Yes. The roads are getting really bad, and she can’t come to pick you up. I’m surprised the phones even work.” She replied. 

_No. No, no, no, no, no._ Patrick was not extending his stay with those four boys.

“Oh, that’s alright. Avery and I can just walk home.” Patrick said. 

Mrs. Denbrough looked at him like he had just grown another set of arms.

“Goodness, no! You two will be staying the night here. Avery can borrow some of Georgie’s ‘jammies, and you can borrow Bi—“ she stopped herself and looked at Patrick for a good moment. “You can wear some of Zack’s clothing. They may be a little big, though,” The auburn haired woman gave a fake smile. He faked a smile back. “Would you mind telling your brother and the rest?” She asked him. He internally screamed in frustration.

“Sure thing.” He grumbled. She ‘smiled’ at him again, and walked away. The boy silently groaned under his breath, and walked to Georgie’s room. He knocked on the door, then entered when they said to come in. The room was already messy, and Avery had a sword made of markers while Georgie was covered in paper that looked like it was supposed to be armor.

“Do we have to leave now?” The dark haired child asked sadly. 

“No, it turns out we get to stay the night.” Patrick replied dryly. Avery’s and Georgie’s faces lit up, and the little boys squealed in delight. Patrick chuckled and left the room. Now all he had to do was tell the other boys, so he quickly went up the stairs to Bill’s room.

He knocked on the door, and entered without caring for a response. Bill was at his desk drawing while Richie and Eddie were talking away while Stanley was sitting peacefully atop the bed while reading a book titled  _To Kill a Mockingbird_. They all looked up at him.

“So, uh, the roads are too snowy for my mom to drive, and I guess I’m staying the night.” He quickly blurted out. 

“Can’t you just walk home or something?” Stan asked calmly. 

“Yeah. I already put that offer on the table. Bill’s mom already said ‘no’, so you’re stuck with me.” Patrick replied bitterly. The room was silent, so he left. Then Bill got up from his desk, and quickly walked through the door. Patrick stood at the top of the steps, and listened to him and his mother bicker.

“Hon, I know he isn’t a... great person, but he can’t go home. It’s too snowy. Besides, it’s not like he’s going to be sleeping in your room. He can sleep on the couch.” Mrs. Denbrough said to Bill. Patrick heard the boy sigh, and then he went up the stairs. 

•••

The older boys were already changed into their sleep wear, and were unrolling their sleepingbags. When the lanky boy was finished changing into a T-Shirt and sweatpants he had ‘stolen’ from Mr. Denbrough, he went to the couch. It was 10:00pm, and the little ones had passed out on the couch while watching  _The Grinch_.  He looked at the peacefully sleeping children and didn’t want to wake them. So, he went up to Bill’s room. The four boys were sitting on the bed talking. They turned their heads to see the lanky boy.

“Avery and Georgie fell asleep on the couch, so your mom said I could sleep in here.” He told them truthfully. Stanley rolled his eyes in annoyance. The lanky boy was more like a nuisance than a threat at this point. They all just sat there in awkward silence. After a little while of just standing there, Patrick decided to enter the room. He placed his headphones over his ears, and blared  _Boys Don’t Cry_ by The Cure as he awkwardly sat in the corner flicking his lighter.

“So, Rich. Do you want to tell us about what happened earlier at school?” Stan asked the boy in front of him when he was sure Patrick was no longer listening. All eyes were on Richie now.

“Yeah. That type of stuff isn’t like you.” Eddie said. Richie looked down at his lap, then glanced over at Patrick.

“It really wasn’t anything, guys. I just got... freaked out because Vic was chasing me. Seriously! That’s it. I’m fine.” He told them, half lying.

“Wait, Victor Criss?” Eddie asked.

“No, Victor Hugo.” Richie replied, sarcastically. Stan rolled his eyes despite the fact that he was surprised Richie knew who Victor Hugo was.

“You know w-we p-p-pester you b-because we care about y- you.” Bill told Richie.

“Aww. Billy boy loves me. I’m flattered!” Richie beamed in his horrendous British accent as he placed an arm gently around Bill’s neck to hug him. Bill sighed, but hugged the trashmouth back. Then Patrick shifted and they all flinched. They looked at him with his back facing him, and hunched over himself. 

“He looks like a goblin.” Richie whispered. The three boys stifled a giggle.

Around 30 minutes later, the boys began to grow tired. Patrick had stopped playing with his lighter after around 20 minutes, and had began looking at Bill’s drawings. Thankfully, Bill had hidden the one of his friends...

and by ‘hidden’, I mean still just sitting unfinished in his sketch book. Anywho...

The three sleeping bags were placed on the right side of the bed, and the boys got into theirs. Richie’s was closest to the bed, then Stan’s, and then Eddie’s. Patrick had borrowed one from the basement, and set it up in the corner away from them. 

“P-Patrick, could you turn off the light?” Bill asked the lanky boy since he was still up. He nodded, and walked over to switch it off. It was just barely light enough for him to get back to the sleeping bag. 

“Bill, could you toss me a pillow?” Patrick asked as he got settled down.

“S-sure,” Bill replied as he tossed him his only extra pillow. The casual exchange between the two boys was strange to the others, but they said nothing. “G-goodnight guys.” He said to his friends.

“Goodnight.” They replied.

•••

_If you touch what’s mine, I’ll kill your brother._

_I’ll kill him..._

_I’ll kill him._

_I’LL KILL HIM. HAHAHAH!_

The voice screamed into Patrick’s ear, and he shot up with a gasp. Cold sweat dropped down his back and shoulders. The boy looked over to Bill who was staring at him with concern. Mildly terrifying, just seeing a strange child staring at you in the dark.

“A-a-are y-you o-o-okay?” He whispered to the older boy. Patrick tried steadying his breathing, then nodded.

“I’m just gonna go check on Avery.” Patrick whispered back as he stood from the sleeping bag.

“L-let m-m-me g-go with y-y-you.” Bill said as he took his covers off and walked toward Patrick. 

“What? No. It’s not even a big deal. Go back to sleep.” Patrick demanded.

“I w-w-wasn’t a-asking,” Bill said confidently and walked past him. Patrick sighed, but followed him. They made their way to the couch. They weren’t there. “Th-they’re p-p-probably j-just in Georgie’s r-r-r-room.” Bill told him. Patrick thought it was cute how Bill’s stutter was worse when he was tired. The two walked to Georgie’s room. The door was closed, but they heard Avery on the other side.

“ _No! Georgie, please don’t open the window for him!_ ” They heard the little boy whisper-shout.

“What the fuck?” Patrick said under his breath before opening the door. It was freezing in there. Georgie was standing by the window, and it was open. Avery was standing behind him with his hand on his shoulder, looking like he was trying to pull him away.

“G-G-Georgie! W-why is the w-window open?” Bill demanded as he walked over to close the window.

“Mr. Penny said he wanted to come inside.” The little boy said. 

“Hey, Avery. You alright?” Patrick asked as he approached his younger brother. Avery turned around. He looked like he’d been crying. Patrick immediately crouched down and looked at him. “Hey, bud, what the hell happened?” He asked.

“There was a man outside the window,” The little boy said, his voice breaking. The whole room seemed to freeze. “He was dressed as a clown.” He began sobbing quietly. Patrick took his brother in his arms and hugged him. Bill locked the window as fast as humanly possible.

“G-Georgie. W-why would you o-open the window for h-him?” Bill asked, sounding way more pissed off than he meant to. Georgie looked confused.

“He... he was nice. He had my boat. He told me we could go to the circus and play.” Georgie said, sadly.

“W-what if that g-guy had taken y-you?!” Bill yelled. The little boys flinched.

“Bill. I know this could have ended up really badly, but take it down a notch.” Patrick said firmly. As much as he wanted to yell at Georgie for possibly putting Avery in danger, he couldn’t. Georgie was just a stupid kid who didn’t really understand things. 

Bill inhaled deeply, and covered his face with his hands. He then, to everyone’s surprise, hugged Georgie. It felt like something he hadn’t done in a long time.

“I’m sorry, G-Georgie. I just d-d-don’t want to lose y-you.” He whispered. The little boy hugged him back.

After everyone had finally calmed down, and got the two little ones to bed, Bill and Patrick left and closed the door behind them.

“Should w-we call the p-police or something?” Bill asked. Patrick thought for a moment.

“The dude’s probably gone by now. If he was ever even there.” He said. 

“I-if he was even there? P-Patrick, th-they both saw him.” Bill said.

“True, but they could have just freaked each other out or something. And then their tired, baby minds could have hallucinated or something?” Patrick tried to reason. Bill sighed again and put his face in his hands. Patrick noticed that his shoulders were shaking. He realized Bill was crying when a drop of water fell to the floor. The lanky boy didn’t know what to do. So he awkwardly put his hands on Bill’s shoulders.

“Hey, dude. Bill, _stop crying_.” Patrick told him firmly. He didn’t demand it, though. Bill quickly wiped his eyes with his sleeves, then looked up at the tall boy in front of him. Bill’s eyes were now red and puffy, and his nose was pink. Bill then nodded. Patrick awkwardly took his hands off Bill’s shoulders, then walked up the stairs. Bill followed shortly after. When he entered the room, he could hear Richie softly snoring. Patrick was already getting back into the sleeping bag, so Bill hopped into his bed.

“Hey, P-Patrick?” Bill whispered into the darkness of his room.

“Hmm?” Patrick grunted.

“Goodnight.” Bill said. The older teen felt a smile smile creep up his lips. 

“Goodnight, Bill.” Patrick said, barely audible. With that, Bill closed his eyes and fell asleep.

•••

Bill awoke with the next morning with someone poking his face. He groaned.

“G-Georgie... it’s so e-early. Go a-a-away.” He mumbled. 

“Bill, I’m not Georgie.” Bill slowly opened his eyes to see Stan. Something was all over his face... it looked like marker. 

“W-what’s on your f-f-face?” Bill smirked a little at the mustache drawn under Stan’s nose. 

“Hate to break this to you, but it’s on yours, too.” Stan said. Bill’s eyes widened, and he hopped out of his bed to find a mirror. As he approached the bathroom, he heard Richie cackling about the drawings all over his face while Eddie was practically hyperventilating. 

“ _Doyouknowwhatsurfacesthemarkercouldhavetouched?Youhadn’tthoughtaboutthatone—_.” Eddie was rambling on and on about how nasty the marker could have been. As Bill peaked into the mirror, he couldn’t help but grow furious. Right smack on the center of his forehead was a drawing of a penis. Richie, Eddie, and Stan were lucky. Eddie had a thick line connecting his eyebrows, clearly supposed to be a unibrow. Richie had two circles around his eyes that were supposed to be glasses. Stan had a goatee

Bill looked up when he heard Patrick cackling like the witch he is. The lanky teen stood in the doorway.

“Look who’s awake.” Patrick said with a grin on his face. He had crumbs on his chin, and his breath smelt of strawberry tarts. Bill glared at him.

“I’m g-gonna kill you.” He said calmly. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I hope you all enjoyed this! I’m planning on continuing this story, so please give me some feedback, and let me know if there are any spelling errors. Please make sure to leave comments and kudos!


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